| --- |
| title: "House Oversight: Estate Documents (Nov 12) (HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_018527)" |
| source: "House Oversight: Estate Documents (Nov 12)" |
| sourceUrl: "https://www.justice.gov/epstein" |
| date: "2026-01-01" |
| category: "House Oversight" |
| eftaNumber: "HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_018527" |
| ocrPages: 1 |
| ocrChars: 3303 |
| ocrElapsed: 0.0 |
| parseTier: "external-legacy" |
| engine: "engine undisclosed (ep-nov-12.greg.technology mirror)" |
| externalSource: "greg-ep-nov-12" |
| externalLicense: "not granted" |
| externalCredit: "ep-nov-12.greg.technology" |
| externalUrl: "https://ep-nov-12.greg.technology" |
| --- |
| |
| known each other for so long, it was easier to read the situation, easier to allow |
| investment. Much harder with Mr. Thereltls, who came out of nowhere, who I barely |
| knew but had awesome chemistry with. In the beginning steps of this game, you can |
| never let them smell your fear. |
| Saturday morning. I'd spent the night with The Artist, was checking my email while he |
| made breakfast. (He actually likes cooking, which I have trouble comprehending.) I |
| wanted to plan my week, and texted Mr. Therells to ask when we'd see each other. My |
| breath hitched as he texted back: he didn't think it'd be a good idea to spend the night |
| together again, but he wanted to have drinks and catch up. I closed my eyes, made myself |
| breathe. Remembered how many times he'd pulled back, how much anxiety he'd |
| expressed about the BDSM we engaged in. I'd tried to make it clear that he was doing |
| awesomely, but dollars to donuts he was still freaking out about it. I was his first-time |
| heavy BDSM partner. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Haven't I learned my lesson |
| about vanilla-but-questioning guys yet? |
| After giving myself a moment to calm down, I texted back that I was open to getting |
| drinks, but wanted to understand his motives better before doing so. "Feel free to email or |
| text," I wrote, "I can't talk right now," then put down my phone and walked into an |
| intense conversation in the kitchen. There'd been some uncertainty over my last month or |
| so with The Artist, due to surprisingly divergent relationship priorities. We're decently |
| matched in terms of being BDSM-identified, and we have so much else in common, but |
| there were some things I wanted to do that particularly freaked him out, plus he wasn't |
| feeling 100% comfortable with polyamory. Most of all, I've been surprised by his |
| emphasis on settling down. |
| That Saturday, it ended with him deciding it wouldn't work. "You and I are in such |
| different places right now," he said gently. "You're still focused on having an interesting |
| life. I'm not prioritizing that anymore. I would have been a much better match for you |
| five years ago." |
| You're one of the most interesting people I've ever met, I wanted to say, how can you |
| decide this? The night before, we'd had a conversation in which he'd described how |
| incredibly stable he wants his life to be. Well-designed apartment, respected job, kids, the |
| lot. How much he wants to get away from past days, when he thrived among bizarre |
| subcultures, prioritized art above everything. He doesn't even want to travel! I listened, |
| heart sinking. Trying to understand. "Isn't there anything you can't walk away from?" I |
| "S&M," he said promptly. "But that bothers me, because I don't know how I can make it |
| Stability; making things fit. Saturday at breakfast, The Artist mentioned that a friend had |
| compared him to Alex, the main character in A Clockwork Orange: in the famous "lost" |
| 21st chapter, Alex decides that it's time to abandon ultraviolence and settle down. |
| Obviously, The Artist was never even close to being the psychopath that Alex is, but it's |
| still an instructive parallel. And I, with all my desire to push and stretch myself, with all |
| the boundaries I'm still seeking to subvert and hack and destroy - I don't work with the |
| desire to settle down. I may never work with that desire. |
| HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_018527 |
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